


Carry On, My Wayward Winchester

by TheFifthCharmedOne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And she's not out to kill him, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottoming from the Top, Dean Has a Daughter, Domestic Fluff, Explicit in second part, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, More tags might be added, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFifthCharmedOne/pseuds/TheFifthCharmedOne
Summary: "I just wanted to get to know you." "And…what do you think? D'you like what you see?" Dean raised his arms in a wide gesture, and they fell back against his thighs with a slap. "Yeah. You're a good man, Dad."





	Carry On, My Wayward Winchester

Brakes squealed noisily as the bus came to a stop, and it jolted Veronica from her nap. Blinking rapidly, she glanced out the window to see that the bus had finally stopped in Lebanon, Kansas.

She gathered her things and stepped off the metallic monster, breathing in the crisp Midwestern air. She sent a quick text to her mom – _in Lebanon, going to try the burner again_ – and hit send on the same number she’d called six times now. Maybe the seventh time would be the charm.

“Hello?”

“…Dean Winchester?”

“Who’s askin’?”

“My name is Veronica. Veronica Robinson.” Dean didn’t respond, waiting for her to continue. “Does the name Cassie Robinson mean anything to you?" 

* * *

Dean nearly dropped the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Did you say…Cassie?” he asked, barely able to believe it. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” said the voice on the other end, a bit of nervous laughter seeping into her voice. “Is there a reason she wouldn’t be?”

“N…no. No.” Dean quietly thanked Chuck that the British Men of Letters hadn’t gone far enough back in his history to find and kill Cassie. He’d never forgive himself if she, of all people, had died because of him.

“Okay…” Her tone was suspicious, but she let it go. “Listen, there’s something I want to tell you. Can you come pick me up?”

“Wait a second, kid. I don’t just drop everything for complete strangers-" 

“I’m your daughter.”

A long minute passed, and Veronica bit the inside of her cheek. She desperately hoped this hadn’t been for nothing.

“I…you’re my…what?” Dean stammered, completely flabbergasted. It took him a minute, but he collected himself. “Where are you?”

* * *

When the sleek black 1967 Chevrolet Impala came rolling into the parking lot, Veronica couldn’t resist the urge to grin. His car really was gorgeous, and in such great condition…her mom certainly hadn’t lied about that.

“Get in.” Dean said after rolling down the window.

Her father was a relatively tall man with short military cut blond hair and a day’s stubble visible in the midmorning sun. His eyes were a bright green, the same as hers, and she could see the handsomeness that her mother had mentioned, even with the slumped shoulders and haunted gaze. “What’s your name again?”

“Veronica.” she replied.

Dean seemed to consider this.

“Can I call you Ronnie?”

Veronica thought about it – her mother had only ever called her Vee or other maternal pet names – never given her an actual nickname. She liked it.

“Sure.”

A ghost of a smile lifted Dean’s lips, and he started the car’s engine.

* * *

It was only when Dean pulled up to what looked like the middle of nowhere that she started to question her decision to find him. She jumped when his phone rang, and she realized how tense she felt. _Relax._ She told herself. _Breathe._

“Hey, Cas.” Dean said into the phone. “I’m out on a supply run, why?” He paused to listen to the other person on the phone – all she could hear was a gravely masculine garble – and continued, “I can’t go on a hunt right now.” Dean looked over at her, and something like fondness crept into his gaze. “I’ve got something else going on. You and Sammy can handle it without me.” He pulled the phone away and pressed end before the mysterious Cas could protest. “So, Ronnie. What exactly did your mom tell you about me?”

“She said that you’re a hero, even though you don’t think of yourself as one. You and your brother – you fight and kill monsters and save people. You saved my mom and Gramma Audrey from the vengeful spirit of Cyrus Dorian.”

“What do you know about supernatural creatures?”

“Whatever the internet and library books could tell me.” Ronnie replied. “I begged my mom for years to tell me more about you, and when she finally did, I had to know more. So I know all about demons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires…you name it, I probably know what it is and how to kill it.”

“Huh.” Dean drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “But you’ve never tried hunting any of those things, right?”

“God no. I don’t have a death wish.”

A sharp laugh escaped Dean, and pride washed through Ronnie at the genuine happiness on his face. She got the feeling that he didn’t get the chance to smile much.

“Okay. I wasn’t going to do this, but you seem like you could handle it.”

“Handle what?” Ronnie asked, brows furrowing.

* * *

“Wow.”

Ronnie couldn’t figure out where to look – Dean had called this place “the Bunker”, and it certainly looked it, based on the outdoor security alone.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted, and his voice echoed off the walls. “Cas!”

“You don’t have to yell, Dean-” The same gravelly voice from the phone came walking into the room, and Ronnie’s eyes landed on him.

He had dark brown hair with a similar cut and style to Dean’s, but his was much messier. He also had the prettiest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He was currently wearing gray sweatpants and a Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“Cas, we really gotta get you some clothes of your own.” Dean said, though it didn’t sound very sincere.

“Who’s this?” Cas asked, jerking his head toward Ronnie. 

“Ronnie Robinson. She’s my…well-" 

“I’m his daughter.” Ronnie interrupted. “Nice to meet you.” She put her hand out to shake, but Cas didn’t take it, instead he raised his eyebrows and glanced over toward Dean.

“Dean, can I speak to you in private?”

Ronnie just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes and opened her mouth to say something, but her phone rang.

‘ _Mom’_ the screen read, and Ronnie swiped to answer it.

“Vee? Honey, did you find him?”

“Yeah I did. Do you want to talk to him?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good-” Dean reached out his hand and curled his fingers in a ‘give it to me’ motion. Ronnie complied. 

“Cassie.” said Dean. “Been a long time.”

* * *

Cassie Robinson sighed and leaned back in her desk chair.

“Twelve years, but who’s counting?” she felt a smile come to her face despite herself. “Hi, Dean. You’re probably wondering why I never told you about Veronica-”

“I’m not, actually. What I am wondering is how she found me.”

“I’m a journalist. She inherited my investigative skills and your stubbornness.”

“But according to all federal records, Sam and I died in St. Louis years ago.”

“Come on Dean, no one can be completely off the grid. You still drive your dad’s car. License plates only conceal so much.”

“I guess.” Dean ran a hand over his face. “So what should I do?”

“She came to find you. Spend a few days with her, let her get to know you. The real you, not the sarcastic jackass with a chip on his shoulder and daddy issues.”

“Your words cut like knives.” Dean deadpanned.

“Dean, I’m serious. This is important to her – don’t screw it up. Now put her back on, please?”

Dean gave the phone back to Ronnie, who went over to the spiral staircase and sat down to talk to her mother – conveniently far enough away for Cas and Dean to talk privately.

“Is she really your daughter?” Cas got right to the point.

“She has to be. The timeline matches up and Cassie wouldn’t have sent her on my trail if it was possible some other guy was her dad.”

“You seem certain of that.”

Dean licked his lips and avoided Cas’s gaze.

“She was your first love.”

“Okay, that’s fuckin’ creepy. You can’t even read minds anymore-”

“I don’t have to read your mind to see what’s written all over your face.”

“Okay Mom, uh huh. Love you too. Bye.” Ronnie walked back over to the two. “Can we go get something to eat? I’m _starving_.” 

* * *

Jiffy Burger was probably the thousandth quick bite joint that Dean had been in, but they all managed to do something different with their meat. The double bacon cheeseburger was simply to _die_ for.

“So you like meat and reading up on the things that go bump in the night…what else?” Dean asked around a mouthful of burger. Cas picked at his salad, his eyes downcast. Dean would ask him about it later.

Ronnie licked ketchup from the side of her mouth as she thought about it.

“I like cars. Your Impala is a beauty.”

Dean couldn’t believe it – this girl – his _daughter_ – had gone out of her way to find him, and not only was she not scared by monsters, but she liked burgers and cars; was there anything not to love about her?

“I’ll tell you a secret. An eighteen-wheeler once totaled Baby-" 

“No!” Ronnie cried. “But…”

“I built her from the ground up.” Dean bragged. He knew he shouldn’t, but it felt good to be proud of something for once. 

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“No, I don’t believe it. How did you get the parts? It must have taken weeks!”

“Well…I knew a guy. His name was Bobby.”

* * *

When they returned to the Bunker, Sam was back and covered in monster blood.

“Damn Sam, ever heard of a shower?” complained Dean. “I came back from Purgatory lookin’ better than you do right now, bitch.”

“Shut up, jerk. I literally just got back. Who’s she?” He asked, pointing to Ronnie, who didn’t seem at all bothered by Sam’s bloody appearance.

“Ronnie. Nice to meet you, Uncle Sam.”

Sam’s eyes went wide and Dean just smiled nervously.

* * *

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack. She’s mine.”

“And you’re okay with the fact that Cassie never told you?”

“Would you have told me, if you were in her situation? We hunt monsters for a living; it’s not exactly a safe place for a baby.”

“Right but she knows about the creatures? Did you tell her?”

“The Internet is a dark and scary place, Sammy.” Dean replied, ruffling Sam’s hair. “Dude, you seriously need a haircut.”

“I like it this length.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Gross, Dean.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Sam was typing away on his computer, and Dean had a faded copy of _Slaughterhouse 5_ open on his lap. “So, I’ve been updating the Men of Letters’ archives, digitalizing them. You won’t believe some of the stuff I found.”

Interest piqued, Dean, put his book down and went to lean over his brother’s shoulder.

On the screen was an extremely organized group of folders all containing information about a variety of things related to them, their lives, their friends, the creatures they’d faced…

“Whoa wait a second back up.”

Sam clicked on a folder that said British Men of Letters. Dean shoved his brother out of the way and clicked in the search bar, typing ‘ _Robinson_ ’ into it. He typed every variation he could think of – Cassie, Cassandra, Veronica, Audrey, Martin…

**_No information found._ **

So they really hadn’t targeted Cassie or Ronnie. Relief hit Dean like a wave.

“Dean?”

The Winchester brothers turned to see Ronnie in the door frame, wearing a large Ole Miss t-shirt and pajama pants. Her skin was the color of toffee, and she had a sprinkle of freckles across her cheekbones. Her hair was curly and short, styled similarly to her mother’s.

She looked incredibly young in that moment, and affection replaced relief in Dean’s chest, lodging there like a piece of gum to an elementary school desk. “Um, Cas showed me an empty room, so I’m going to go to bed.”

“Hey wait, we didn’t even get a chance to talk,” Sam said, a bit of guilt seeping into his tone.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Ronnie answered. “But I’m beat. Night.”

“Night.” the brothers replied in unison, and Ronnie smiled at them before walking bare-footed down the hall. One of the bedroom doors closed with a _snick_ a few moments later.

“She’s a nice kid. 100x better than Emma.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me of her, or even compare the two.”

“Dean.”

The brothers looked up again but Sam quickly looked away, as it was Cas standing in the doorframe now.

“What’s up Cas?”

“Are you sure that this girl – _Ronnie_ – can be trusted?”

“Come on Cas, she’s a kid-”

“Children are capable of more than you know.”

“Right, but she’s not out to hurt us, and for once someone related to us doesn’t have an ulterior motive.”

“How do you know that for sure?”

“I just do.”

“But-”

“Cas. You’re wrong about her.”

Dean stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. It was clear that he was a man that couldn’t be moved, not about this.

Cas walked away, and soon enough they heard his bedroom door close too.

* * *

When had Castiel, former Angel of the Lord, now human part-time hunter, become so jaded? Clearly, if Dean was able to open his heart to this young girl, then he should be able to do it as well.

Cas sighed and sat down on his bed, pressing his head into his hands and elbows into his thighs. The faded gray sweatpants he’d borrowed from Dean still vaguely smelled like him – like whiskey, motor oil, and summer rain - and it gave Castiel comfort.

Perhaps he should stop avoiding the true problem – Sam had called it ‘deflecting’.

Cas’s mistrust of Ronnie wasn’t rooted in anything malicious…he was, as shameful as it was for him to admit… _jealous_ of the child.

Unlike him, she had a clean slate with Dean, one that was not stained by past betrayals and years of heartache. She was able to earn and keep his trust, which was something Castiel wasn’t sure he would ever be able to do again. Dean had every reason in the world to mistrust him, but no reason to doubt Ronnie.

She was pure, and Castiel was not.

That ate at Castiel for the rest of the night, and though he fell into fitful sleep, he woke with a deep foreboding and exhaustion weighing down his bones.

* * *

The next morning, Dean made bacon.

He ignored Sam’s bitchface and just let himself enjoy for once.

What he couldn’t ignore, though, was Cas coming into the kitchen like an extra for _The Walking Dead_.

“Heya sunshine. Bacon?”

“Not hungry,” Cas replied, his voice rougher than usual. “Is there any coffee?”

“Fresh pot, right there.” Dean pointed and Cas shuffled over to it. As he passed Dean, the hunter grabbed Cas’s bicep. “How about you tell me what’s going on with you and why you look like you just came out of a horror movie?”

“Your concern is touching, but I’m fine.” Cas pulled Dean’s hand away and resumed his beeline for the coffeemaker.

“Is that bacon?” Ronnie came into the room then and grabbed three slices. Dean grinned, forgetting Cas for the moment.

“So, I was thinkin’ today I want to do some work on Baby. Routine stuff – change the oil, clean up the inside…” he met Ronnie’s enthusiastic gaze. “Wanna help?” 

* * *

And that was how Sam found them, six hours later, laughing about some story from the years Dean and Sam had spent cruising cross-country in the Impala.

Sam couldn’t remember seeing Dean so light and happy, and he was grateful to Ronnie for providing that to him, but he couldn’t help but worry about Cas.

_Flashback_

_Sam, upon realizing it was the middle of the afternoon and Cas hadn’t come out of his room except for coffee that morning, padded over to the former angel’s door and knocked gently._

_“Hey, Cas, you all right in there?”_

_There was no answer, so Sam tried the door._

_To his surprise, it opened._

_“Sam? Are you alone?”_

_“Yeah, Dean’s out in the garage with Ronnie…what’s going on?”_

_“You once told me that if I ever needed anything, you would help me.”_

_“Yeah, of course, Cas.”_

_“I need to talk to you. You’re the only person I can trust with this.”_

_Sam walked fully into the room and closed the door. Cas took a shuddering breath and voiced what he was feeling for the first time. “I think I’m in love with your brother.”_

“Dean, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Dean must have sensed the urgency in Sam’s tone because he didn’t crack a joke or taunt him – just approached with a serious expression.

“Is it Cas?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on with him?”

_“Cas, what you’re feeling is perfectly natural. You should tell Dean-”_

_“No!” Cas cried, his voice cracking on the word. Pity shot through Sam like a bullet. “Promise me you won’t.”_

“I’m not really sure but you’re closer to him than I am. You know, that profound bond stuff.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go talk to him. You keep an eye on Ronnie.”

 “Sure,” Sam answered, and Dean returned to the inner part of the bunker.

“I’m not a kid, I don’t need a babysitter,” Ronnie complained. Sam smiled, remembering how he used to say the exact same thing when he was twelve.

“Dean has to go deal with something, so you’re stuck with me for a bit.”

Ronnie looked him over.

“Is it true that you got a full ride to Stanford?”

* * *

Dean knocked on Cas’s door and was surprised when it immediately opened.

“Sam, I already told you, I’m not…you’re not Sam.”

“No, I’m the more handsome of the two.” Dean quipped.

Instead of chuckling or even smiling, Cas just shook his head wearily.

“What do you need, Dean?”

“There’s something off with you, and I want to know what it is.”

“I’m-”

“You aren’t fine, come on.” Cas said nothing, he just turned toward his room and left the door open. He sat down on his bed – which, Dean noticed, was unmade – and ran a hand through his hair.

“Humanity is a difficult weight to bear.” Cas began.

“Yeah tell me about it.” Dean grunted, but shut his mouth at the look Cas gave him.

“It has led me to so many choices I would not have made if I still served the Heavenly Host. It has also brought…emotions out of me. Things I hadn’t realized were possible for an angel.” he smirked bitterly. “But I’m not an angel anymore, am I?”

Dean watched Cas’s facial expressions change, and felt something like anticipation squirm inside him – but what was he excited for? “There was always something else going on – something to distract me – but in the rare moments of peace and silence, it was there. Like a steady lighthouse guiding me home after a rough journey… _you_ were there.”

Something about this felt life-changing. If Dean believed in fate, or destiny, or any of that crap, he’d say this was what that felt like. “Dean Winchester…I’m in love with you.”

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally going to be a one-shot, but this felt like a good place to stop. I'm really having fun with Ronnie's character and it's been a while since I wrote SPN fanfiction. So feel free to let me know what you think!
> 
> -Charmy


End file.
